


Gaining Her Favor

by Disenchantedglow, msmerlin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Gifts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healers, Rivalry, St Mungo's Hospital, kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 17:32:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17064074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disenchantedglow/pseuds/Disenchantedglow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmerlin/pseuds/msmerlin
Summary: Eight years post war, Hermione finds herself surrounded by an unlikely group of friends after spending eight years in Healer training with Draco, Pansy and Theo. One night while at a pub, Hermione mentions that she wants to be given 'The 12 days of Christmas' like the famous muggle song. The two wizards take her request to heart and compete for her attention. Written for Dramione FanFiction Writer's Triwizard Tournament. Round #1.





	Gaining Her Favor

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: As much as we would want to, we cannot claim any of the characters below as our own. All credit can be given to JK Rowling.

_**November 27th. 2007** _

The steady thump from a kick drum rumbled her chest, causing the cider she had consumed to fizz in the pit of her stomach riotously. “The twelve days of Christmas…. You know. The partridge in the pear tree….the maids a milking.” Hermione tried to explain over the band’s music.

“Milking?” Pansy questioned over the rim of her glass, dark green eyes darting over to Theo and Draco who seemed to hang off every word the very drunk witch said before they flickered back over to watch the curly haired witch take a large gulp from her quickly disappearing drink. “No, I’m afraid we have no fucking idea what you mean. We never celebrated _Christmas_ growing up, but I am familiar with the twelve days of Yule.”

“Yule? No. That’s not it.” Hermione’s head cocked to the side, glassy eyes darting around the small table. “Oh...right. I forget, you’re all pure-bloods,” she mumbled, her hand lifting to smack against her forehead. “Um.. it’s a song. Just look it up. I want that though! Someone thinking of me and making me feel special for the twelve days of Christmas.”

“You want twelve days...of Christmas?” Theo repeated, leaning over to press his elbows against the soft wood of the round table. “So like one present each day for twelve days?” he confirmed, and when Hermione nodded from behind her cider glass, his right hand slapped onto the table making it rumble. “So it’s no different from the twelves days of Yule. Got it. Done. Easy enough.”

“Done?” Draco drawled as he leaned back in the hard wooden chair, his arms crossing over his chest. “I don’t believe her request was specific to you, Nott.”

Theo’s dark eyes flicked over to the broody blond, noting the almost standoffish appearance he held. “She said she wanted someone thinking of her, something I have been doing daily since starting med school. It only makes sense it would be me.”

“Thinking of her with your hand down your trousers is hardly what she was going for, Theodore,” Pansy chimed in before darting out of the way when Hermione lobbed a salt shaker at her head.

“Inappropriate, Pansy!” Hermione might be drunk, but she was still coherent enough to scold her friend.

Pansy waved off the witch, motioning to the wait staff that was moving about the over-packed pub for a refill on their drinks before turning her attention back to Draco, who was still watching Theo with narrowed eyes. He didn’t—did he? No. There was no way—unless... “You know, Draco, if you think she might prefer receiving gifts from someone else, then maybe you can participate in this little—Hermione, what did you call it?”

“Twelve days of Christmas,” Hermione supplied as she looked over her shoulder towards the band, her body swaying in time with the beat. She was not going to let their bantering spoil her night out. She had just worked a twenty-hour shift and had the next day off. She needed a break, a way to unwind, and even if the band playing was horrible, she was going to at least try and make the most of it.

“Yeah, that. Twelve days of gifts.” Pansy snapped her fingers, pointing to the witch.

“Christmas!” Hermione corrected.

“Whatever.” Pansy’s eyes rolled towards the ceiling.

Draco held Pansy’s gaze, his fingers tapping idling on his arm in quiet contemplation. “Maybe I will.”

“What?!” Theo gasped, glancing at Hermione, who seemed to not be paying any further attention to their group of friends, making sure the coast was clear before he leaned across the table toward the wizard. “You don’t even like her!” Theo whispered.

Draco shrugged, averting his gaze from Theo to glance at Pansy who was in near hysterics watching the almost visceral way Theo reacted to Draco participating in the gift giving marathon Hermione wanted. “My intentions are my own, Nott. You do your gifts...and I’ll do mine.”

Pansy set her glass down to clap with a giggle before leaning forward to place her elbows on the crowded tabletop, clasping her hands and letting them rest in front of her smile. “This is going to be so much fun!” She announced with bright eyes before glancing to her oblivious friend. “Hermione!”

“Yeah?” Hermione questioned, turning around in her chair to face her friends once more, large brown eyes already hazey from the cider she was drinking.

“What do you want for your first gift?” Pansy pressed before her eyes flickered to Draco and Theo, both of whom were now listening intently.

“First gift?” Hermione questioned, brows knitting in confusion for a moment before the fuzzy memory flooded back. “Oh! I don't know….get creative!”

* * *

_**December 20th, 2007** _

Several weeks had gone by since the drunken declaration in the pub, and, in all honesty, Hermione had nearly forgotten about admitting she wanted twelve days of Christmas. Her fellowship in the memory unit at St. Mungo’s kept her running near empty most days, as the patients within the unit always seemed to get worse throughout the winter months. She speculated it had to do with the holidays, but there was little evidence she held to support this claim—yet.

That was why when Draco caught her in the break room between her third and fourth cup of tea and handed her a small leather-bound pouch with no explanation she was very confused. Inside had been three beautiful swan quills, hand crafted by someone with a keen attention to detail. On the bottom of the quill, near the tip, her initials were engraved. Before she could get over her surprise at the unexpected but thoughtful gift, Draco walked away. When Hermione finally looked up to thank him, he was disappearing back through the break room door.

That was odd, even for Draco. She shrugged it off, too tired as she neared the end of her twelve hour shift to give it too much thought. He was probably just fed up with her constantly rifling through his desk looking for a spare quill; she did have a tendency to constantly misplace them. Any attempt at trying to figure out what went on in Draco Malfoy's head was abruptly cut short when her tea was interrupted by the intercom calling her back to a patient's room.

After several emergency patients and a few hours past her scheduled shift’s end, Hermione was finally sitting down at her desk to complete some overdue paperwork when Theo waltzed into her office like the Minister for Magic himself with an intern at his heels struggling to carry a very large potted plant—no, tree—that was cooing wildly.

“Theo, what the hell are you doing?” Hermione coughed, bits of the sandwich she purchased from the canteen falling into her lap in her shock.

Theo pointed towards an empty space in front of her window. “Right there is perfect, Whistlstrom. No, no—to the left a bit. Ah—yes. There! Thank you!” he instructed the young wizard before turning to Hermione with a wide, charming smile. “It’s the first day of Christmas, Hermione, and nothing less would do for m’lady!" Theo explained with a sweeping hand that narrowly missed the top of the intern’s head as he fled from the room before further instructions could be given.

“First day of Christmas?” Hermione repeated, brown eyes flicking from her overly enthusiastic friend to the large tree that was now blocking her only source of natural light in the cramped office just in time to see the head of a very angry partridge pop out from one of the leaves. “Oh, fuck.”

* * *

**_December 21th, 2007_ **

“He’s really gone mental, hasn’t he?” Hermione stood in the sitting area of her flat. Pansy stood right beside her with a smirk plastered across her face.

“Well, you did tell him to get creative this year.” Pansy folded her arms across her chest, trying desperately to keep her cackling to herself. After the night at the pub, she had helped Theo locate the lyrics to the Muggle song Hermione had mentioned, finding it only slightly odd when he had proclaimed them perfect. Now, of course, it was beginning to make sense. Theo was an absolute fucking buffoon.

“Yeah, but when I said that I wanted twelve days of Christmas, I didn’t mean literally!” She shrieked as she held a cage of two pristine white turtle doves, cooing lovingly beside each other.

“Two down...ten to go.” Pansy lost control and began to wail hilariously. no longer able to keep her composure as she grabbed her gut and tipped over onto the couch. “W-Where is day one?”

Hermione sighed at her friend and moved across the living room to set the cage on her coffee table before falling back onto the couch. “The tree is in the Janus Thickey Ward. I figured a little greenery might do some good in there,” Hermione explained. “I owled Luna on lunch and gave her the partridge. I didn’t know what else to do with it. My flat is not really equipped to handle wild birds.”

Pansy howled, her laughter echoing off the walls of the living room until she had to calm herself enough to wipe the beginnings of tears as they leaked from the corners of her eyes. “Okay… okay,” she said, taking several deep, calming breaths to compose herself. “So what else do we have to look forward to?”

Hermione groaned, her hands going up to cover her face. “I hadn’t even thought of—Oh no.  Pansy, please talk to him.” Hermione begged, cracking her fingers so she could peer at her friend, only to see Pansy fall into a fit of hysterics once again.

“Absolutely not! This is—this is amazing!” Pansy laughed. “I might even offer to help. This was your hairbrained idea, not mine.”

“I was drunk!” Hermione defended.

“Not my problem, Granger,” Pansy gasped out in between her finally subsiding giggles.

Hermione glared at Pansy as she flopped down onto her sofa, her head thrown back against the cushions. The next ten days were going to be a disaster if she couldn't get Theo to stop sending her gifts. A sudden loud thump against her ajar kitchen window caused both witches to jump, followed cacophony of squawking, frantically beating wings as the owl pushed its way into the kitchen caused Hermione to lift her head up. Catching sight of the large post owl now sitting on her table, a brown paper-wrapped parcel in front of him, Hermione lowered her head and groaned. “I can't deal with any more surprises, Pans. See what it is, will you?”

Pansy eyed her melodramatic friend before pushing off the couch and sauntering across the room to untie the parcel from the owl’s leg. “Stop acting like a wizard attempting to gain your favor is a terrible thing, Granger. Theo, although rather thick, could be considered quite a catch.”

“First off, it is absolutely terrible when you put into context the rest of the song,” Hermione pointed out as she flopped down to lay on the couch now that Pansy had vacated it. “Secondly, what bloody year is it? 1920? ‘Gain my favor, quite a catch’. You sound like Ron’s grandmother.”

With Hermione hidden behind the couch, Pansy gave the lumpy furniture a hard glance before picking up the small note card attached to the parcel. “Well fear not, plebeian; it's not from Theo. It looks like Draco's handwriting,” Pansy stated, glancing at the front label. His penmanship had always been perfect, courtesy of years of special tutoring his mother had put him through. He was quite possibly the only Healer whose penmanship was still legible post-medical school.

“D—Draco?!” Hermione jolted up instantly and peered over the couch at Pansy curiously with her brow knit.

Smirking to herself, Pansy slid the notecard under the twine that was wrapped around the package, setting the unopened box on Hermione's lap before reclaiming her spot. “That’s what it looks like. Open it!” She hadn't heard about a gift from Draco yesterday, but if this was what she thought it was… Draco must be making his move.

Hermione looked at the package curiously. It was thin, only about two inches thick, but as wide as her lap. She lifted the box to carefully tuck her legs criss cross before nimble fingers unwound the twine, and she tucked the notecard under her thigh before tearing into the packaging. Why on earth would Draco be sending her something through the owl post? She had seen him less than two hours ago at work!

Inside the package, surrounded by white tissue lay a photograph Hermione recognized instantly. She had held onto this photograph for ages, as it had been taken during third year. Harry and Ron flanked either side of Hermione, her arms around their shoulders as they laughed at the camera in front of the Quidditch pitch. Long ago, it had graced the top of her dresser in her childhood home, but, when she left during seventh year, it felt in poor taste to leave it. Since then, it had followed her around the various dorm rooms and offices she held before finally settling on her desk at St. Mungo's. However, a week ago, it had disappeared. It had a tendency to fall to the floor or into her bin when her desk became overly filled with patient files and textbooks. She had been absolutely devastated by the loss, but now here it was, wrapped with care in a brand new frame that did the old worn photograph more justice than any Primark frame ever could. Her fingers brushed against the glass, the moving images of her childhood friends pricking tears in the corners of her eyes, and a small laugh of disbelief escaped unbidden.

Pansy leaned over, dark green eyes peering past the tissue paper, and she let out with a low whistle before elbowing her friend in the ribs. “Why didn’t you tell me Draco was participating too?!”

“What?” Hermione winced, rubbing her now aching side. “No, he’s not.”

Pansy scoffed before gesturing to the framed photograph in Hermione’s lap. “Clearly he is. Did he give you anything yesterday?”

“Uh...I mean, he gave me some quills, but that’s just because I steal his all the time!” Hermione justified, scooping up the photograph, and she rose from the couch and headed to set it next to her Healer’s coat and badge so she wouldn’t forget to bring it to the office in the morning.

Pansy’s eyes instantly fell to the notecard, and she hesitated for a split second before snatching the forgotten note from the couch. Sliding a perfectly filed nail underneath the flap, she sliced it open and pulled out the small piece of parchment inside. Dark green eyes flickered across the elegant script as a cheshire cat-like smile spread across her face. “Oh, he most certainly is.”

“How do you—PANSY!” Hermione gasped from across the room and hastily set down the photograph before launching across the room to snatch the card from her friend. “You’re not supposed to open people's post!”

“Oh, please. I read people’s mail all the time. Not like it’s illegal… besides—” Pansy tossed the note at the witch before she could reach her and darted to the other end of the couch, putting space between them. “I’m fairly certain he wouldn’t send a note that says ‘Day Two’ if he wasn’t participating.”

* * *

**_December 24th, 2007_ **

Mondays were one of Hermione’s favorite days of the week. She didn’t have work on Mondays, which meant she could sleep in as long as Crookshanks allowed. She didn’t have to wear itchy trousers or scratchy lab coats. She could sit around in what Pansy had taken to calling her ‘Muggle Mum attire’ and read or watch the telly. She could just relax. But this particular Monday meant something else: it was Christmas Eve which meant she would get to see Harry and Ron this evening. But it was also day five, and more importantly it meant it was going to be the first gift she received from Theo that wasn’t a bloody bird. Which would be great considering that she was beginning to run out of friends who lived in the country that would take them off her hands.

Day five was jewelry. Five golden rings to be exact, and as she lay in bed, her mind wandering to the types of golden rings she thought Theo might find tasteful. She prayed he didn’t spend a fortune on them. She wasn’t flashy; the wizard had to know that after eight-years of friendship, right? She didn't expect—nor did she want!—something extravagant, but dammit, she deserved some nice jewelry after dealing with all of those bloody birds. Rolling over in her bed, Hermione reached out to scratch the top of Crookshanks’ head lovingly before she swung her legs from the bed and stepped into a pair of red and gold fuzzy slippers, a gift from Luna. Luna had told her red and gold helped keep the Piddypomps from burrowing in your mattress at night, and while Hermione had accepted the gift knowing full well there was no such thing as Piddypomps, she had come to love the eccentric slippers. They were warm, soft, and—most importantly—not shaped like the turnip ones she had given Ginny a month earlier.

She slipped inside her warm housecoat as she exited her bedroom, humming the tune of jingle bells softly. She needed tea, and perhaps she might even be swayed to make an omelette due to her good mood. It was her day off, after all. Why not indulge a little? As she shuffled down the hallway, her hands pulling her wild curls into a high bun on the top of her head, Hermione rounded the corner into the living room and stopped dead in her tracks.

In the middle of her couch sat Draco. His arms were spread over the back, his legs crossed at the knee, and he eyed what appeared to be several sets of human-sized, golden, feathery wings that floated magically around the room on their own accord, occasionally bumping into each other. His silver eyes narrowed on a pair that had bounced off her wall, knocking a picture of Harry’s wedding askew before heading directly towards him.

“Draco!?” Hermione questioned, her mouth remaining slack as she watched him turn toward her and hastily stand from the couch, his hands smoothing out the wrinkles in his crisp black oxford.

“Granger.”

Hermione stood frozen for a moment, her brain clearly not firing on all cylinders without her first cup of tea. Draco was in her room. Draco I’m-participating-in-this-twelves-days-of-Christmas-and-NOT-TALKING-ABOUT-IT Malfoy. Why was he here? Better yet, how did he know where her flat was?! “I….I…” She stammered, her mouth opening and closing several times as she tried to collect her thoughts.

“I wanted to drop off your gift… in person,” the blonde explained. “But I probably should have owled first.”

“You think!?” Hermione snapped, glancing down at her attire, and she shut her eyes tightly, trying to dampen the urge to blush.

“I apologize. I wasn’t aware you were one to sleep the day away. When I spoke to Pansy about it this morning, she encouraged me to pop in and give your gift in person instead of through the post,” he explained, glancing behind him when he felt the set of golden wings brush up against him, and he reached back to push them off before assessing his shoulder to make sure none of the glitter had sloughed off onto his clothing.

Of course she did. Pansy seemed to be enjoying this more than anyone else that was actually involved. She had taken to following Hermione into her office multiple times a day to see what either wizard had dropped off. “It’s fine. Just give me a moment, okay? Let me change and—”

“It’s quite alright. I can go—”

“No! Just… five minutes, okay? Don’t go anywhere,” Hermione insisted, catching Draco’s gaze and waiting until the wizard relented to her request and sat back down on her sofa. Their schedules kept them busy. What with her in the Memory Unit, and Draco working in Spellbound Hematology, she had yet to corner him properly to discuss what the bloody-hell he was doing giving her these gifts. Was he having a laugh at her expense or doing this just to rile up Theo?

In what had to be a world record time, Hermione managed to slip into a pair of jeans and a festive jumper and brush her teeth before making her way back into the living room, her fingers working her thick curls into a single braid that rested over her shoulder. Okay, first tea. Then she could deal with Draco and whatever in Merlin's name those wings were about. As she rounded the corner, she watched the blond, who had stayed put on the couch as requested, lean forward and place a shrunken version of the wings that had floated around her flat moments earlier on the coffee table. It appeared he had taken the initiative to shrink them down and remove whatever charm had caused them to float around her sitting area. “Have you been avoiding me?”

Draco’s head snapped up, silver eyes doing little to hide his surprise at her question. “What? No. That’s absurd.”

Hermione shrugged as she moved across the room towards the little kitchen. Only a long counter top separated the living room from the kitchen, and thankfully she had the wherewithal to clean up the clutter that normally littered the surface two days prior after the French Hens had escaped their cage and made a mess on her countertop. “Is it? Because you usually take lunch with Pansy and me, and you haven’t shown up in about a week.”

Draco twisted in his spot on the couch to watch her move about the kitchen. “I’ve been busy. I wasn’t aware the lack of my presence would be noted,” he explained, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smirk that appeared almost a bit too smug.

“Of course it was,” Hermione scoffed, setting the kettle on the stove before she ignited the burner with the tip of her wand. “I’ve been trying to find you so I could discuss … well, this.” She glanced at the wizard through her thick eyelashes before gesturing toward the coffee table where the golden wings lay.

“This?”

“The gifts,” she clarified with a small huff before pulling down two mugs from her cupboard, and she set them on a small tray. “I’m not entirely sure why you’ve decided to…. well, you know.”

Draco’s brow knit as he looked at the wings once more before he glanced back at her. “Okay. I _will_ answer that question, but first…. do you really think I brought you wings for day five?” he questioned.

“They _did_ appear the same time that you did….”

Draco gave a short laugh in disbelief. Blimey, he knew med school was difficult and their fellowships were not exactly a walk in the park, but clearly she must have had some spare brain cells left in there. “Those are not from me. They’re a bit—” Draco glanced back to the coffee table to eye them critically before looking back to Hermione “—ostentatious. Even for my taste.”

Golden wings... fuck, it all made so much sense! Of course Draco had not given her bloody golden wings. His gifts from the beginning had been so thoughtful, as if he actually thought about what he was purchasing for her as opposed to… well, doing exactly what Theo was. A set of hand crafted quills, the reframed photograph from her youth, the cat treats for Crookshanks, and the rare potions kit from yesterday.

Hermione groaned as she realised her error, her eyes closing before she leaned down to let her head rest against the cold countertop. Merlin, there was not enough tea in the world that would prepare her for knowing that Theo Nott had actually been inside her flat to deliver those things. Even worse was the fact that he had not bothered to clarify the lyrics of the song with ANY of the Muggle-borns on staff at the hospital and thought golden wings were completely fucking normal.

Draco rose from the couch, laughing as he moved closer to the fireplace and retrieved a beautifully wrapped present from where he had set it next to her tree. “Don’t worry though. When I see him today, I will make sure to tell him how keen you were to wake up to a room that looked like it hosted a stag party last night,” he teased as he placed the package in front of her on the countertop.

“Don’t you dare!” Hermione lifted her head quickly to give him a sharp stare before she looked down to the package that sat inches from her face. “Draco,” she sighed, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. “Why are you doing this?”

Draco leaned on the countertop the separated them, his hands pushing into the softwood and he shrugged, his eyes lifting to the ceiling innocently before he glanced down at her. “Because you said you wanted this. You wanted someone to think of you and make you feel special.”

“But...why?”

“Because you deserve it,” Draco answered honestly, the sincerity in his voice not hidden behind snark or a joke like he normally would make. He meant every word. She deserved to be treated specially. Everyone knew how brilliant and brave she was, but over the past eight years he had gotten to know the real Hermione. The one who would stay late to help a sick child or give up her lunch for a hungry nurse. The one who would drink a little too much red wine but still manage to bring doughnuts for the pediatric wing on Fridays. The woman who had managed to look beyond what society had labeled him as and give him a second chance, and, in that process, steal his heart.

Hermione gulped, averting her eyes to the gift, and she bit her bottom lip, willing herself not to blush. He was just being friendly. It wasn’t anything beyond that. Friends did things like this for each other, right? “Well, thank you… You’ve succeeded in making me feel particularly well cared for,” she said as she pulled the gift towards her, fingers playing with the ends of the gold-ribboned bow on its top.

“I’m happy to hear that.” Draco’s fingers curled against the wooden countertop, his heart skipping a beat at her words. “I’ve got to go. I’m afraid I was only on break,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting in the smallest of smiles as he began to back up from the counter.

“Oh, okay,” Hermione replied with a small frown. “Don’t you want to stay for a moment, watch me open this?”

Draco shook his head, turning from her as he grabbed a handful of the green powder from the dish on her mantle. “Can’t. But I know you’ll love it,” he replied before tossing the powder into her fireplace and disappearing in a swirl of emerald flames after calling out his St. Mungo's ward.

Well, this certainly complicated things, now didn’t it? Looking down at the present in her hands with a small purse of her lips, she finally tore into the wrapping paper. Inside the box on a bed of silver tissue paper lay a beautiful throw blanket, the fabric an impossibly soft, gorgeous swirl of deep green, blue, purple, and red jewel tones that she was just itching to touch. As she reached out her hand to do just that, she noticed the golden thread woven throughout. Tracing the pattern with her index finger, she gasped as she realized what exactly this blanket was. The gold thread was stitched in the shape of runes that were were, while not quite ancient, plenty old enough to be quite strong. The runes imbued the blanket with a magic that would warm whoever lay beneath it to the perfect temperature. As she lifted it out of the box to admire the handiwork of whoever crafted the blanket, a small note fell from the swaths of fabric and landed face up on the counter top.

_For when you’re cold at the office… but you can still borrow my jumper if you prefer._

_D.M._  
  


* * *

**_December 29th, 2007_ **

“Hermione, you have GOT to see this!” Pansy exclaimed excitedly as she burst into Hermione’s office, her dark green eyes wide.

“Pansy!” Hermione shrieked, snapping shut a thick book and pulling it towards her chest as a deep blush blossomed across her cheeks. “Don’t you ever knock?”

Pansy’s eyes narrowed, watching as Hermione shifted in her chair holding the book closer to her chest as if to hide it. “Of course not. If I knocked, you wouldn’t know it was me... is that day ten?!”

“W-What?” Hermione’s voice cracked and she looked down to where Pansy’s finely manicure nail pointed and her fingers curled around the book further as she lifted her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It is!” Pansy shrieked,  eyes widening with excitement before she launched across the room towards a now retreating Hermione. “Let me see!”

“Pansy, no! This is—” Hermione winced as she slammed her ankle into the leg of the small table in her office, hobbling on one foot, still trying to get away from the overly enthusiastic witch. “—personal!!”

“Personal!? Even better!” Pansy was quick, possibly quicker than her friend remembered. And she was obviously not afraid to use force, since she shoved Hermione onto the small settee in an effort to unbalance her. As the book flew from Hermione’s hands and onto the floor, she darted for it,  snatching up the sacred book before flipping it open. Her dark eyes scanned over the words on each page, her thin plucked brows meeting in the middle of her forehead in confusion. “‘Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime….Tells me from you that now it is bed time. Off with that happy busk, which I envy’… what the fuck is this?” she snapped, looking up to Hermione who had pulled herself up into a sitting position on the furniture and was rubbing her throbbing ankle.

“John Donne, you neanderthal.” Hermione mumbled, frowning as she lifted her pant leg to assess the damage.

Pansy hummed in disapproval, fingers flipping through the thick off pages of parchment, to find each one had contained a hand selected poem accompanied by a flower pressed flat next to it. “This is—”

“Charming!”

“Disgusting.”

Pansy and Hermione said at the same time. Snapping the tome closed with a resounding thunk, Pansy tossed the book haphazardly on Hermione’s desk. Although they had grown close over the years, the two witches could not be more different . While Hermione had appreciated the thoughtfulness of each gift she had received from Draco, Pansy was getting rather bored. Flowers, books, teapots, and now this. A fucking poem. Merlin, maybe she ought to go give her childhood friend a lesson in what witches really want. It was obvious Theo stood no chance against the blond wizard—anyone with half a brain in their head could see that—but still, Draco really ought to try harder!

“It is not!” Hermione defended, putting a small amount of weight on her foot to test whether she would fall down before she stood from the settee, straightened her white lab coat, before she marched back over to her desk to pick up the book that dangled near the edge. “It’s  sweet.”

“He stole words from other people and wrote them in a book next to dead flowers. Don’t be so delusional, Granger.” Pansy waved her hand dismissively at Hermione when the witch shot her a stern look. “This is almost as bad as day seven. Who wants a used copy of a book?” Pansy snorted at the idea.

“For fuck’s sake, it was a first edition of _Hogwarts: A History_ , not just some…some ‘ _used book._ ’” Hermione had tried to explain the significance of that gift from the moment Draco had handed it to her over lunch three days ago, but clearly Pansy was missing the point. “Besides, these gifts aren’t for you; they’re for me. He’s hand picking items specifically for me, to make me feel special and...happy.” Hermione smiled softly, looking down at the journal in her hands.

“Believe me, I’m well aware you’re the only person who would enjoy that shite,” Pansy mumbled as she examined the cuticles on her left hand. “Look, whatever. Keep your book of stolen words and dead plants. There’s something better…” she trailed off as she looked up, catching the soft look in Hermione's eye and the way her lips tilted up in a private smile as she flipped through the pages of poetry. “Wait…you _like_ him.” Pansy gasped. “You like Draco!”

“I—well, of course I do. I mean we're friends, and—”

Just as Pansy opened her mouth to call her friend a liar and to inquire more about this crush she clearly had, the intercom in the top of Hermione’s ceiling buzzed to life. “Doctor Granger? Paging Doctor Granger,” the cracking voice of Prudie, the Welcome Witch, buzzed. “Please come to the lobby. Your—”

“Gift!” The very faint voice  of an overly excited Theo could be heard.

“Gift? Oh Dr. Nott...,” Prudie sighed disapprovingly before continuing. “Your gift is waiting.”

Hermione’s eyes closed as she took a slow, steady breath and her hand rose to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Pans?”

“Yeees?” Pansy replied in a sing-song.

“Are there... men waiting for me downstairs?”

“Uh huh.” Pansy was positively brimming with excitement. At this point, she was barely even trying to keep the laughter from her voice. “And guess what they’re doing.”

Well, it was now or never. It was like a plaster; the longer she waited to rip it off the worse it would hurt, right? Dropping her hand, Hermione looked over to Pansy who was starting at her office door holding it open. “Leaping.”

* * *

**_December 31st, 2007_ **

Hermione lingered near the back of the party, feeling terribly out of place. Her hair was swept back in a loose braid that hung down her back, and a small fringe of curls framed her face. She was used to galas at this point, having attended her fair share since the war’s end at the behest of the Ministry, but she’d never attended one as grand as this.

Parkinson Estate was positively dripping in decadence. Silks of grays and blacks hung from the ceiling and draped elegantly to the floor of the tent that was set up on the sprawling grounds. On the tables, beautiful vases were filled with fresh flowers and jewels that Hermione was certain were actual fucking diamonds glittered in the dim light from candles that hung magically overhead. Champagne and hor d'oeuvres were carried around the room on trays held by men in tailored suits. The black velvet waistcoats with silver embroidery, crisp white high collar shirts beneath patterned silk vests, and tall white stockings with black loafers reminded Hermione of paintings that graced the walls of Hogwarts. The elegant costuming, coupled with the fact that they were using wizarding wait staff as opposed to House Elves, was clearly just a show of wealth; it was something Pansy’s father could hold over the heads of all the other pure-blood families who were still around to care about such things.

Her finger tapped nervously against the side of her champagne glass as she looked curiously about the room. Pansy had abandoned her approximately ten minutes earlier when a gaggle of Quidditch players she had invited waltzed into the room. She knew the witch’s decision to take her fellowship in Cosmetic Healing wasn’t due to an interest in that particular field, but rather the connections she made while on the job. Of course, the money never hurt as well.

Hermione was growing impatient with standing alone, flashing small half grins to various pure-blood couples who passed while whispering underneath their breath about her. She needed Pansy to come back immediately. She was supposed to be by her side like she had fucking promised when she forced Hermione into this dress.

The dress was stunning. Everything about it was absolutely breathtaking. The sparkling rose gold fabric, the daring, plunging neckline, the way it hugged her curves so tightly she had to forgo knickers so as to not have a panty line. Everything came together to make this dress the most impressive article of clothing she had ever worn. Unfortunately, Hermione was not used to feeling this exposed in a dress, and she had tried to persuade Pansy into picking something else from her massive closet or to at least let her wear the sensible gown she had brought with her when she arrived earlier that afternoon, but nooo. She had to wear _this_ particular dress.

Riddled with self doubt, Hermione lifted the glass to her lips to finish off the bubbly alcohol inside, praying that it might loosen up the tension she felt in her spine the moment she had walked into the tent.

“Granger, you look absolutely stunning.”  Draco's familiar voice cut over the soft melody the string quartet in the corner played. He wore a bespoke suit, something that absolutely no one should be surprised about, but the rich, smoky gray color was a stark contrast to his normally preferred color: black.

“Draco,” Hermione breathed as she lowered her empty glass, freshly plucked brows lifting slightly as she looked him over. “You look... different.”

His trademark smirk pulled at the corner of his lips as he approached, his hands sliding into the front pockets of his trousers. “Different was not exactly what I was going for.”

“Not in a bad way!” Hermione explained quickly, a small blush blossoming over her cheeks. “It’s just... well, short of your lab coat, I wasn’t certain you actually own anything that contained colour,” she confessed with a small laugh.

“Don’t be daft, of course I do,” Draco scoffed as his turned to survey the crowd of people around them, and, spotting a waiter, lifted a single hand to beckon for another glass. “I wear charcoal and gunsmoke quite often.”

Hermione lifted her small black clutch to rest over her painted lips trying to hide her smile. He couldn’t be serious, could he?  When a fresh glass of champagne was offered to her, Hermione quietly declined with a small head shake before setting her empty stemware on the silver tray.

“So, I heard you already received your last gift from Theo this morning,” Draco remarked as he took a glass for himself before dismissing the waiter with a small nod of the head then turned  his attention back to Hermione.

“Oh? Didn’t manage to miss that one?” Hermione’s eyes fluttered closed at the very loud memory of  twelves drummers in the lobby of St. Mungo’s. At the beginning of the twelve days, Hermione had been so hopeful that with some gentle encouragement Theo might see that the literal interpretation of the song’s lyrics was not a very effective way of wooing her. But all of the hints had clearly fallen on deaf ears.

Draco shook his head, his eyes widening for a brief moment in amusement. “Try as I might, the melodic _ra-ta-tat-tat_ from twelve drummers seemed to penetrate all the way up to the third floor,” he explained before taking a large sip from his glass.

“I’m fairly certain the workers on the roof heard it,” Hermione mumbled in agreement before she cast her eyes over Draco’s shoulder to spot the vision in green that was her friend. Pansy was on the arm of a thickly built wizard, no doubt one of the Quidditch Players she had invited. It appeared she had been making her way back toward her forgotten friend, but when she saw Hermione was standing shoulder to shoulder with Draco, Pansy quickly changed their trajectory and instead introduced the man on her arm to an elderly couple who lingered near the sweets table.

“Speaking of gifts—” Draco glanced at Hermione out of the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to the crowd in an attempt to hide his curiosity. “I’m interested to hear your thoughts on yesterday’s gift.”

“The book?” Hermione question. By the time she got around to opening the present post rounds, Pansy was already hovering over her shoulder like a gnat to get a glimpse of what treasure awaited her. When Hermione uncovered the dusty looking tomb, Pansy was less than thrilled if her exclamation of, “Two days of fucking books!” was any indication. However this particular text was one that Hermione had not been familiar with. _The Pure-blood Ladies’ Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politeness_ by Hestia Burke. “It was lovely.” Okay, so maybe it was only partially a lie.

At first she was taken aback, because clearly Draco was slightly delusional if he thought this particular text would be of interest to her. All of his previous gifts had been more than just thoughtful; they were a clear indication that he paid more attention to her likes and dislikes than previously assumed. It was only when Pansy remarked offhandedly that the book contained etiquette used in pure-blood families since the mid 1600s that Hermione did finally see the value in it. It was a decoder—a rosetta stone if you will—for her to understand the customs and cultures her new friends were a part of.

Friendship with the Weasley’s had been so easy, partially because they were so adept at integrating modern day devices and culture into their home. It was not until she started med school that she realised just how very different they were from other pure-blood families.

“Did you have a chance to look through it?” Draco questioned with a casual curiosity.

“Yes.” Again, only a slight mistruth. She had flipped through the pages while Pansy ranted about a particular chapter on ball etiquette, but almost seconds after opening it she received a page over the intercom from Prudie. The pipers Theo had hired were leaving after spending the day entertaining her patients in the Janus Thickey Ward, but, at the request from their day's patron,  they wished to play her one final song.

Draco nodded with a shaky inhale before tipping up the glass of champagne, drinking down the rest of it with a large gulp before he turned to Hermione. “I’d like to give you your final present now if you’ve no objections,” he began, silver eyes searching Hermione’s face for any indication of hesitation.

“Here?” Hermione questioned, feeling suddenly very nervous. He had not asked her if it was okay before dropping them off previously. Why the sudden formality? “Uh.. I mean, sure. Do we need to go somewhere private?”

Draco paused. He’d obviously not given much thought if it was appropriate for her to receive the gift in public. Lifting his eyes from hers, he looked around them to see who was within ear shot before he nodded. “Perhaps that would be ideal.”

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t be certain, but it was almost as if he was nervous about what he intended on giving her, and she couldn’t help but notice the way that sent the butterflies in the pit of her stomach into a riot.

Draco moved to her side, his hand sliding from his pocket to rest on her lower back, his pinky straddling the invisible border between her lower back and the swell of her arse. And while that alone shouldn’t excite her, it was the way he leaned in to whisper in her ear as he guided her across the busy room toward the back where the tent opened to give an almost picturesque view of the Parkinson Estate that set her heart into an uneven rhythm.

“I know I already told you,” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to her ear, “but you do look beautiful. It’s nice to see you out of your work clothes.”

Hermione gulped, a solid lump forming in her throat, and the hand holding her clutch held it a bit tighter. Sweet Merlin, he could likely read her _Culpeper’s Complete Herbal_ in this same tone and she would melt into a puddle at his feet. “Thank you. Pansy picked it out.”

“I will have to send her my thanks,” Draco teased with a small laugh, his eyes flicking down toward Hermione, and he couldn’t help but notice the way the soft skin on the side of her neck rose with fresh goosebumps. “Watch your step,” he warned as they crossed the threshold from the hard wooden floor in the tent to the soft snow outside.

Hermione’s heels sunk slightly into the white powder as the wizard moved her towards one of the braziers off to the side of the door. Her fingers picked at the small beading on her clutch nervously.

Draco cast a quick warming charm around the two of them before he unfastened the two buttons holding his blazer closed and reached into his jacket. It wasn’t that he did not want to be seen giving her this gift, but he wanted this moment to be private. Since she had playfully chastised him about not being present during the lunch period, he had made a point to show up every day and escort her back to her office. Nothing out of the ordinary, but the small moment alone he got with her in the lift before they were thrust back into the chaotic life that was working at St. Mungo’s made him more sure than ever that this was what he wanted to do. He just prayed he had not read her feelings wrong and that she reciprocated what he felt.

His fingers curled around the small box that he withdrew, his thumb nervously running across the lid before he held it out for her. “I didn’t have time to wrap it. I’m sorry,” he apologized. His adam’s apple bobbed as he held out the gift for her. Despite his steady hand, he felt like he might burst into flames at at moment, silver eyes glued to her face, awaiting her reaction.

“How will I ever forgive you?” Hermione tried to joke, a playful smile pulling on her lips before she reached out to take the box from him, and she let her eyes drop. It was small, no bigger than her palm and extremely light. Her heart thumped nervously as trembling fingers removed the lid to reveal a hair comb on a bed of white fabric inside. It was a pale gold, small diamonds embedded into the looping filagree of the design and nestled in the center were small clusters of luminous pearls that shimmered in the soft light.

While absolutely stunning, this was not exactly what Hermione would have guessed lay inside the box. In truth, she was not entirely sure what Draco would have gifted on the last day of Christmas, but a hair comb? Her hand rose, painted fingers brushing over the jeweled hair comb slowly before she lifted her eyes to his to find him holding his breath as he watched her, awaiting her reaction. “It’s...it’s beautiful, Draco. Thank you.”

Draco’s eyes flickered between the comb and her face several times, and almost instantly the hope he had felt moments ago came crashing down around him. She had read the book, she knew precisely what this meant and all she could say is it was beautiful!? “Yes...it is.” His tone was a bit colder than intended, but he was unable to keep the overwhelming disappointment hidden. Straightening his spine, his hands quickly moved to button his coat before smoothing out the fabric as he tore his eyes from her. “I hope you enjoyed your gifts. I’ll see you inside.”

Hermione frowned as she put the lid back on the box, her brow knitting in confusion. “I did. Wait—Draco, is there something wrong?” Hermione questioned, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm.

Draco’s silver eyes swirled like a storm as he looked down to Hermione, everything he wanted to tell her waiting on the tip of his tongue to be unleashed but he couldn’t. Not when it was so fucking obvious she did not feel the same. “No, absolutely nothing,” He replied deadpan. “I need to go.”

Before she could say anything else, Draco turned quickly from her and moved back inside the tent. What did she say? What was he expecting? It was a bloody hair comb! It was lovely, but not exactly something practical or even remotely within her style choice. To be honest, she had not even considered these things were still within fashion until she saw them worked into several updos of women inside the tent! “What the bloody hell?” She murmured, looking down to the box in her hands once more as she removed the lid.

Hermione heard the furious heel click of her friend before she saw her. She had made it just to the entrance of the tent when Pansy rushed over. “What the fuck happened!?” Pansy whispered, dark green eyes wide. “What did you do?”

“I—I don’t even know!” Hermione replied honestly, giving her friend a small shrug.

“Well, something obviously happened. Draco just ran out of here and nearly upended a waiter in the process.” Pansy informed her with a well placed eye roll as she crossed her arms over her bust.

“I didn’t _do_ anything,” Hermione insisted. “He gave me his final gift, I said thank you, and he fucking took off!”

Pansy eyed her friend skeptically, her lips pursing lightly as she debated whether to believe her tale or not before she sighed in exasperation and swept her hand in front of her. “Well….what did he give you, then?”

Opening the small box, Hermione tilted it so he friend could see the beautiful hair comb that lay inside. “A hair comb. I don’t exactly get it but—”

Pansy reached out and grabbed Hermione’s wrist so she could pull back the box, her mouth opening in a wide 'O' as she blinked down at the glittering piece of jewelry. “Shut the fuck up!” Pansy gasped, gaping at Hermione, who looked very much like a deer in headlights. “Do you have any idea what this bloody means?!”

“That he thinks I have a taste for hair accessories?” Hermione knew that wasn’t likely, but it was worth shot, right? Besides, the gift made no sense, nor did Pansy’s explosive reaction upon seeing it. While it was a lovely hair comb, it was certainly not gasp worthy.

Pansy’s face went blank, and she released Hermione’s wrist before tossing her head back and howling with laughter. Hermione ‘Swot’ Granger, the top of her class in every fucking school she had ever enrolled in, did not know what this gesture meant. This was too rich to pass up. “Oh wow… wow. This is bloody fantastic,” Pansy breathed through her laughter, fingertips dabbing at the corners of her eyes.

“Just fucking tell me,” Hermione sighed as she roughly shoved the box closed.

“I shouldn’t tell you, just so I can see you suffer,” Pansy said as she smoothed out her dress with a look of disinterest. “However, since I am your friend, I’ll be forthcoming just this once. But you owe me. I want that cute little black leather jacket in your closet. You know, the one with the red stitching.”

“Pansy!”

“Alright, sheesh. It means he wants to court you.”

“To court me? Like…?”

“Like as in date you. Publicly. With the intent of matrimony down the line, the whole twelve yards—or whatever that term is you Muggles use,” Pansy explained.

Suddenly, Draco’s reaction made perfect sense. He had just given her a token of his affection that meant far more than anything else he had given her. He had basically given her his heart on a platter and all she had to say was ‘it’s beautiful, thank you.’ “Fuck. Fuuuck!” Hermione cursed, her hand lifting to touch her forehead as the dawning reality of just how much she had managed to fuck up set in. She needed to go find him. She needed to accept! She needed to fucking tell him she never read that book and that she didn’t meant to offend him.

Pansy, who was mid lecture on how she was quite possibly the best friend Hermione had to date because of her graciousness in keeping her informed in not only fashion but societal norms as well was cut off when Hermione lifted a hand to silence her. “I need to go!” she told her friend quickly before she took off into the tent.

“First off, rude. I was talking. Secondly, go? Go where exactly?” Pansy spun around, watching as Hermione began to briskly walk into the tent.

“After Draco.” Hermione called over her shoulder. Her heels clicked furiously on the wooden floor as she tried to pick up the pace but only found it harder to keep her balance. “Fuck this,” she murmured, and, pausing her chase, Hermione grabbed onto the nearest person's shoulder and used them to steady herself as she pulled the three inch heels from her feet by the stiletto. She was never going to catch him in time if she was wearing these things. Now barefoot, Hermione spun around after muttering a small thanks to the surprised wizard she had used for support and shoved her clutch and the heels into Pansy’s arms, who’d followed her into the tent and stared at her with amused shock.

“What the hell, Granger?” Pansy looked down at the items in her hands disdainfully before backing up to watch Hermione gather the length of herdress in one hand while the other clutched the small brown box tightly.

“I’ll find you later or something,” Hermione promised before turning to dart through the room. She wove through the crowd, narrowly missing a few of the more inebriated guests as she made her way to the front of the tent and out onto the small cobbled path that wound through the Parkinson Estate towards the Apparition point for the night.

Hermione was far from an athlete, so the prospect of running all that way seemed rather daunting, but she knew if she did not hurry she might not catch Draco before he apparated away. With the time crunch in mind, she hoisted the length of her dress up once again, exposing her legs from mid thigh down before she took off.

The grounds were beautiful. What must be lush gardens and a beautiful green lawn that stretched for kilometres in the spring and summer months were now covered in a coating of white powdery snow that glistened in the light from the waning quarter moon. It was nearing midnight and Hermione was thankful for the twinkling faery lights that helped guide her way along the cobblestones, as the moon's pale glow was obscured by passing clouds.

Her heart thumped wildly in her chest as she ran. The sound of her cold bare feet slapping against the pathway was the only noise that could be heard as she got farther away from the party. It was then that the clouds that lingered low in the sky decided to let loose a small flurry of flakes across the grounds. First, Hermione thought she was just feeling more chilled from the lack of cloak and her bare feet, but it become much more obvious when the white flakes clung to the cold cobblestones of the path. “You’ve got to be joking,” she cursed. Slowing her run to a crawl, she cast a warming charm on her feet, the snowflakes clinging to her eyelashes and chilled cheeks as she stood on the path silently cursing her luck. She needed to find Draco quickly before the weather became much worse!

Gathering up her dress one again, Hermione resumed her brisk walk across the estate, her breath lingering in the air in small puffs of warm condensation. Rounding a small bend, she spied a narrow path branching off the main cobblestone walkway she was currently on. At the end, a dimly lit white gazebo sat nestled against the banks of a pond. Low hanging limbs from a neighboring willow tree twinkled with faery lights, providing a picturesque scene. And there, in the middle of the white gazebo with his back facing the path, stood Draco.

Hermione moved quickly down the path, slowing her pace once again as she drew closer to the wizard. She didn’t know what she was doing to say or do, but she was going to make this right. She had to.

Draco's hand clutched the railing, and his head hung low as he replayed the rejection in his mind. How had be misread the signals? Had Theo’s extravagant display really won her over? These unanswered questions swirled in his mind as he gazed out over the pond, debating how he was going to face her come Tuesday morning.

“Draco,” Hermione panted as she reached the bottom step of the gazebo. She watched the wizard spin around in surprise as she began up the small wooden steps towards him.

“Granger? What are you—”

“I can explain!” She cut him off, brown eyes pleading him not to run from her as she crossed the small gazebo toward him. “Please. Let me explain.”

“There isn’t much to explain,” Draco leaned back on the railing, his hands coming to rest on either side of his body. “You made it perfectly clear how you felt.”

“No, I didn’t.” Hermione stopped only a few steps from the wizard, and she dropped the dress, letting it pool around her bare feet. “I lied to you.”

“You lied to me?” Draco questioned skeptically.

“I didn’t read that book. Things got out of hand with Theo after I opened it and... I didn’t have a chance to read it.” Hermione explained sheepishly.

“Oh….” His voice trailed off, and slowly his brow unwrinkled as he realised what she was trying to allude. “You didn’t know…”

“I didn’t know,” Hermione agreed with a nod, eyes dropping to look at the small box she held in her hands as she opened it and pulled out the beautiful hair comb, letting the box fall forgotten to the floor of the gazebo. “Ask me.” She instructed, her tongue moistening her bottom lip as she held the hair comb out to the wizard, taking a small step forward to close the space between them. “Ask me what I think about it now that I know.”

Draco’s silver eyes dropped to the comb, watching the small tremble of her hand as she offered it out to him. Pushing off the railing, he closed the distance between them and gently took the comb from her, his thumb stroking over the jewels delicately as he looked into her eyes. “What do you think, Granger?”

Hermione’s heart fluttered. Had Draco always been this tall? Had he always smelled this nice? Her mind swirled, unable to stay on one single thought due to his proximity and the implications of what his final gift actually meant. “I think that it’s beautiful,” she breathed. “And that if we’re going to make this work, you’re going to have to be the one to break the news to Theo.”

Draco smirked, his free hand lifting to gingerly stroke her cheek with the back of his knuckles before he cupped her jawline, tipping her face back as he lifted the hair comb and slid it into the thick braid on the back of her head. “That can be arranged,” he murmured before he leaned down to press his lips against hers in what she hoped would be the first of many stolen kisses.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun facts about this story:  
> 1) one of us does not enjoy Hallmark Christmas Movies, and mocks them endlessly.  
> 2) one of us loves Hallmark Christmas Movies, and mocks them endlessly.
> 
> This is literally the brain child of two crazy women and our attempt at turning the prompt into a cross between a Hallmark Movie & Grays Anatomy ("EXCEPT THEY'RE ALL HEALERS!"). We had an insane amount of fun with this prompt and hope you guys enjoy the little tale. Leave us a review to let us know what you think!
> 
> A huge thank you to Ravenslight for beta'ing this for us. and, of course, a massive thank you to the admin team for hosting this fun tournament!


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